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<h1><a href="https://archiveofourown.org/works/26113450">Entanglement</a> by <a class='authorlink' href='https://archiveofourown.org/users/FiftyStars/pseuds/FiftyStars'>FiftyStars</a></h1>

<table class="full">

<tr><td><b>Category:</b></td><td>Deadpool - All Media Types, Iron Man (Movies), Marvel Cinematic Universe, Spider-Man - All Media Types, The Avengers (Marvel) - All Media Types</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Genre:</b></td><td>All the Parkers are alive (except the parents), Artist Peter Parker, Complicated Relationships, Emotional Manipulation, Existentialism, Extremis (Marvel), Extremis? Kind of, Fun times being a tourist in your own city, Gaslighting, Gen, Guess whos projecting. Its me lmao, Inspired by Tangled (2010), Introspection, M/M, Modern Setting. everyone else is still the same, Morally Ambiguous Character, Natasha Romanov Is Not A Robot, Parent Tony Stark, Peter Parker Acts Like a Spider, Peter Parker Needs a Hug, Precious Peter Parker, Pride, Pride Parades, Really. He just needs to find it, Redemption, Reunions, Rogue thief Wade, Slow Burn? unless wade brings flammables, Stark Tower, Starring Princess Peter, Symbolism, Tony Stark Acting as Peter Parker's Parental Figure, Tony Stark Has A Heart, Tony Stark Has Issues, Tony's emotional growth from jerk to kinda ok, Wade Wilson Breaking the Fourth Wall, Wade Wilson Needs A Hug, Wade Wilson Takes Care of Peter Parker, Wade Wilson is a Good Friend, im immature af ok leave me alone im still a fetus, which reminds me</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Language:</b></td><td>English</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Status:</b></td><td>In-Progress</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Published:</b></td><td>2020-08-25</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Updated:</b></td><td>2020-11-12</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Packaged:</b></td><td>2021-05-06 07:13:33</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Rating:</b></td><td>Teen And Up Audiences</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Warnings:</b></td><td>Graphic Depictions Of Violence</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Chapters:</b></td><td>4</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Words:</b></td><td>5,565</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Publisher:</b></td><td>archiveofourown.org</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Story URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/works/26113450</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Author URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/users/FiftyStars/pseuds/FiftyStars</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Summary:</b></td><td><div class="userstuff">
              <p>“I am the Lost Experiment, aren’t I?"</p><p>For much of his life, Peter has been isolated, contained, removed from the world. All he knows is his home, the highest floor of Stark Tower. It's what he gets for being a walking radioactive health hazard.</p><p>Good thing Wade Wilson has no fear of hights. Or radiation poisoning. Or flying men in metal suits.</p><p>Or</p><p>Tangled inspired AU thats very loosly based, exploring its various themes. Tony is Complicated {TM}. Peter needs therapy and hugs. Also it's set during Pride month.</p>
            </div></td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Relationships:</b></td><td>Peter Parker &amp; Avengers Team, Peter Parker &amp; Tony Stark, Peter Parker/Wade Wilson</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Comments:</b></td><td>22</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Kudos:</b></td><td>147</td></tr>

</table>

<a name="section0001"><h2>1. Prologue</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p> </p><p>“Why can’t I go outside?” asked the child with luminous brown eyes, brushing an unruly lock of faintly glowing tawny hair from his eyes.</p><p>“It’s dangerous for other people, and you. You could irradiate them, even hurt them. Not to mention, not many people like mutants or mutates. They could attack you, just because you’re different to them,” replied the man, who had a possessive arm around him as they read from a large non fiction book. “The world is dark, but you are a bright new light for all of mankind. They will try to do everything they can to extinguish you, and that’s why you gotta stay up here. Safe.”</p><p>He ran his fingers though the boys hair, gently unravelling the entangled strands.</p><p>“Yes, Mr Stark.”</p><p>“Great. I just need to run a couple more tests. Could I get a few more of those tears, spiderling?” </p>
<hr/><p> </p><p>Peter hadn’t always been so isolated. </p><p>There had once been a time when he could run around his block, chattering away with other children. They had played sports outside, and they had played with Legos indoors. All the while, there had been either May or Ben’s steady presence near by, which would give him a warm, welcomed feeling similar to that of sunlight kissing his skin.</p><p>He leaned forwards now, nearly hanging out of his huge windows by his fingertips, trying earnestly to catch the last few rays of light before the source of them disappeared beneath the horizon. Beneath him was a shear drop of  over 1000 ft.</p><p> Skyscrapers and cranes varied in height as far as his eye could see, haloed in golden, yet most were dwarfed in comparison to the one he was currently peering out of, from the highest floor there was. Directly below him was the helipad, extended out from the rest of the tower, where four quinjets were situated, wings spread to look as if they were huge glossy black birds of prey.</p><p>He imagined what it was like to take flight, to soar between these towering, manmade constructs.</p><p>Eventually, he sighed and retreated with the sun, reeling himself back into the present, where he was sitting on the window’s ledge.</p><p>Like a fly trapped in amber, nothing around him seemed to change, and time felt like a foreign concept.  Ben would’ve told him that there was no use dwelling in the past. May would’ve laughed and told him to live in the moment.</p><p>Tony – well, he was a futurist, always two steps ahead of everyone else, and his ideas twelve steps ahead of himself. Tony Stark, his adoptive father, was a very busy man, too busy for such thoughts. Make no mistake, he was far from a constant in Peter’s life. Peter didn’t mind though, because he knew that Tony loved him, and that it was safer to maintain his distance. From everyone.</p><p>Even if it left him feeling as if he were less than real. Non existent.</p><p>Peter would never forgive himself if he let anyone get hurt because of his own stupid radioactive genes.</p><p>Something nudged his elbow, smooth and metallic, causing him to glance down. A robot of his own making, possibly his favourite, was attempting to climb past him with eight spindly mechanical limbs.</p><p>“Hey! C’mon Ampere, how many times do I have to stop you from crawling to your doom? It’s not that bad in there.” He wasn’t quite sure who he was trying to convince.</p><p>A trill that sounded like whirring electronics replied to him.</p><p>“I guess that’s what I get for programming you to depend on your LDR input for sight. You’d run right into the sun if you could,” he huffed.</p><p>Wheeling backwards, Peter flopped onto his bed and gazed up at constellations he had painstakingly etched onto his ceiling with florescent paint and scientific accuracy. Would he ever see them with his own eyes, miles away from light pollution? Feel the pavement again, solid beneath his feet? Taste the food the street venders sold stories below? </p><p>See his aunt and uncle?</p><p> Someday. </p><p>When he’s older.</p>
  </div></div>
<a name="section0002"><h2>2. Prison's Prism</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Summary for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
            <p>Tony, sweetie, why are you like this.</p>
          </blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p> </p><p>Every year on the month of June there was a festival, a celebration of vibrant colours and pure joy. He remembered his aunt telling him that these people were celebrating themselves, their differences and their love.</p><p>Laughter, cheers and the smell of food would drift through his window, and when he would peer down he was met with the sight of millions milling about on closed roads, some dancing, some marching, and all of them filled with energy that filled him with a giddy sense of elation.</p><p>He felt as if he would tumble out of the glass in excitement. An unfinished canvas painting lay propped up before him, possibly the largest one he’d ever attempted, and definitely his favourite.</p><p>He had drawn the view from the window at sunset, a cityscape outlined in soft light. On one building in the middle stood a tiny painted silhouette, gazing down at the crowds of tiny, colourful people. He couldn’t imagine himself among the throngs, no matter how much he tried.</p><p>Would he be shy? Would he make friends? Would he hate it?</p><p>There was only one way to find out. He would ask Tony if he could leave, just for a short while, with protective clothing he’d designed himself to protect others from his radiation. It wouldn’t hurt anyone, he was sure, and no one would find out he was a mutate.</p><p>He would turn 19 this month, and the furthest he’d gone in the last 6 years was the Avengers common room. Today, he would ask for a short window of freedom.</p><p>Hearing footsteps towards him rooms, he sucked in a nervous breath, quickly concealing his painting with the floor-length curtains. Hurriedly, he darted about the room to make it presentable, hiding his inventions and sketches, trying to appear as responsible as possible. He shooed away Ampere to hide under his bed, just in time.</p><p>Tony’s voice called from down the hall, thick with sleep (or a lack of it). </p><p>“Pete! You there?”</p><p>“Where <em>else</em> would I be?” he replied, because really, he was always here unless he was escorted by a top level SHIELD agent. He liked Natasha and Clint best.</p><p>“Good one! Snarky this morning, aren’t you?” Tony mumbled into his coffee.</p><p>They both wrinkled their noses at each other.</p><p>“That smells more like caffeine paste than coffee.”</p><p>“Have you been using oil paints again? I thought you were focusing on your thesis?”</p><p>Peter sighed, crawling half way up the wall before leaning against it, just because he could. “I got bored. There’s only so much math I can do before I need a break. We can’t all run on coffee and formulae.”</p><p>“It’s a lifestyle. Lets see your latest masterpiece then.”</p><p>Peter leapt in front of the concealed canvas. “S’not finished. Besides, I wanted to ask you something.”</p><p>“Lets hear this then,” said Tony, flopping into his usual armchair.</p><p>Tony wasn’t in a good mood, but Peter stubbornly pushed on. </p><p>“It’s – well, my birthday is next Thursday, and I was hoping-”</p><p>“Pete, I really don’t have all day. Could you cut to the chase? Is this about your birthday? I’m sure you had one last year.”</p><p>He took a steadying breath against the tightness in his chest. “Birthdays kinda repeat themselves, y’know? Unless you were born on a leap year... Anyways, I’m turning nineteen, and I thought I could go see the celebration? In person?”</p><p>Tony had a tic that came out when he was particularly done with Peter’s brand of bullshit, a tic that made him pinch the bridge of his nose in exasperation. </p><p>Peter let go of the curtains he was about to move away, taking a careful step back.</p><p>“That’s it, then? You know why I can’t let you do that.”</p><p>“I know.” Peter hated how his voice became smaller, how he became smaller to avoid confrontation, dimming in an attempt to hide.</p><p>“Why do you keep <em>asking</em> me? Do you think I like seeing a young, spry thing with too much energy in his cells stuck in four walls, like a damn canary in a cage? I guess suddenly I’m the villain in this scenario. Like a fucking story book stepmom?”</p><p>“No, Tony. I’m sorry-”</p><p>“Do I make you sweep chimneys and sleep on the cinder, Oliver Twist? No, you do that yourself along with a million other mindless things you do to keep yourself busy. And I humor you! I get you all sorts of shit. But that’s the one thing you can’t ask me. It’s just not gonna happen. Sorry.” </p><p>Peter was in the ceiling corner now, arms wrapped around himself. He couldn’t help it. He knew it was upsetting Tony even more.</p><p>“Jesus, get down, you little horror, you look like you belong in the Conjuring, hanging off the ceiling like that.”</p><p>Peter knew that Tony was trying to make light of the situation, that he didn’t mean it, but his brain failed to make the connections. He winced, dropping down to clasp his hands behind his back, as if he could hide his abnormalities.</p><p>Tony heaved a long suffering sigh.</p><p>“Great, I feel like such an asshole now. Guess I’m not much different to my old man after all, huh?” He had his head in his hands, like he often did when nursing a migrane.</p><p>That wasn’t true. Tony was kind in his own way, he could make Peter laugh on the worst days, he had cooked for him, sung him to sleep, cradled him through his tears and homesickness. Tony had risked his life and health just to be near him when he had no one.</p><p>Peter felt a chasm of guilt open up inside him, sucking up all his earlier hope. </p><p>“It’s okay, really, I don’t know why I even asked, its not fair to you.” He crept closer. “M’sorry.”</p><p>Tony looked up at him with his tired eyes, a small smile causing his weathered face to crease and crinkle slightly at his smile likes. </p><p>“It’s alright, June bug, I know I would have broken out already at your age. You haven’t even made an attempt. You have a different kind of strength, Peter, and you’re probably the best of us all.” </p><p> Tony gently drew him closer by his wrist, and enveloped him in a hug, always the first to initiate contact, always the only one to give. Peter’s heart <em>ached</em>.</p><p>“I’m just trying to do what’s best. I do love you, you know that, right?” Tony’s voice rumbled from this close, the words spoken into his hair, and Peter could only soak up his rare affection like a sponge.</p><p>Of course Peter knew this, as clear as the sky during the day. So why did his thoughts cloud over with doubts and darkness?</p><p>“I love you more.” And he meant it.</p><p>“Ah, this argument again? I’m gonna nip it in the bud, and say I love you an infinite amount. Hey. You want Chinese? Because that’s what we’re ordering tonight.”</p><p>With a ruffle of his hair, Iron Man left.</p><p>Loneliness felt cold, even in June. </p>
  </div></div>
<a name="section0003"><h2>3. Canada Man breaks into Prison to hang with inmate</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Summary for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
            <p>Bruce: science<br/>Peter: science?<br/>Bruce:<br/>Peter: But consider this; science. :D</p><p> </p><p>Deadpool needs to do more yoga. Peter needs to get out more and let his hair down. Webs down?<br/>Tony needs to print some missing child posters.</p>
          </blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>The next day found Peter tapping away at his thesis on his laptop, decidedly bored. He was in Dr Bruce Banner’s lab, where he kept most of his biochemistry research. He had started writing his thesis at Dr Banner’s insistence, and when a guy with <em>seven</em> PhDs ( including one in gamma radiation) told you to write one, you did. Tony had been equally proud and despairing, due to Peter’s decision to choose the ‘squishy sciences’ instead of engineering like him.</p><p>Dr Banner was invaluable help, and under his guidance Peter had learned more than he ever had in all his years of home school. He would be ‘graduating’ from MIT next year, although it didn’t mean much, considering he had never actually been there.</p><p>“Peter? Are you okay? You look like you’re a thousand miles away.” Bruce’s voice was calm and quiet, instantly comforting.</p><p>“What? Yeah, I’m fine Dr Banner, just analysing the data that just came through, but conclusion from the results is almost the same as my predictions.”</p><p>“There’s the little genius. You’re going to take my job any day now,” said Bruce fondly, shaking his head.</p><p>Peter gave a theatrical gasp. “I could never usurp your position of head scientist and lead researcher of biophysics! Blasphemy!”</p><p>Bruce chuckled. “You get more sarcastic as you grow up. I swear, it feels like yesterday you were asking me about the behaviour of water molecules.”</p><p>“That was yesterday! I was running on two hours of sleep.”</p><p>“And then your spidery instincts decided I would make a good cushion to sleep on.”</p><p>Peter blushed. “You are comfy and the only one immune to me. I could have chosen a nice warm light fixture instead.”</p><p>“Which you almost burnt yourself on.”</p><p>“I was <em>cold</em>. It was December! Tony said I was too old to hibernate!”</p><p>“You’re never too old for a lie in. How’s your painting going?” Bruce inquired.</p><p>“It’s going fine. I underestimated the scale so now the perspective is skewed.”</p><p>“Acrylic?”</p><p>“Oil paints. The smell annoys Tony,” Peter replied, flipping his pen between dexterous fingers.</p><p>“Don’t antagonise him,” advised Bruce. “He’s got a lot on his plate right now. Pepper’s going nuts trying to keep him sane and sober.”</p><p>“I know,” he mumbled. </p><p>“Go on,” relented Bruce, “I know you would rather have a paintbrush in your hand right now, instead of that poor pen.”</p><p>The pen was indeed in a poor state, having been deconstructed for the sixth time, missing half of its components which Peter had stowed away in his pocket.</p><p>Peter hopped up, brightening. “Bye Dr Banner!”</p><p>He gave Bruce a quick hug on the way out, knowing that at least he couldn’t endanger The Hulk.</p><p>~</p><p>Peter lay on his favourite spot on the ceiling, staring down at the painting as if it had deeply offended him. How could he have even thought of leaving? It was pointless anyway. Here, he could be safe and warm, far away from anyone who would use him for his mutation.</p><p>It had all begun with a small, golden spider.</p><p>When Peter had been 13, he was chosen as one of the few students who would visit Stark Tech’s research labs as part of an accelerated learning scheme. Aunt May and Uncle Ben had been ecstatic. He had been well behaved and attentive, up until he’d seen the strangest spider in existence, with red, blue and golden markings that shimmered along with the web it wove. When he’d gone closer to study it, the spider had leapt and bit him on his hand, leaving a small raised scar. Peter, in his haste to shake it off, had thrown the tiny thing clear across the room, where it had been crushed underneath another student’s shoe. His cells had started to agonisingly mutate that same day, terrifying his aunt and uncle.  </p><p>The next day, SHIELD agents had come knocking at his door, and with one last tearful goodbye he left in their black non-descript car. He never saw his family after that.</p><p>It was for the best. They weren’t safe around him.</p><p>The window slid open with a thud, jolting Peter out of his boredom. A figure, dressed in the strangest outfit he’d ever seen, fell through and landed on their front with a dull sound. </p><p>“<em>Finally</em>. Thank fuck. I need to attend yoga more often, because damn, I pulled every single muscle I have,” groaned the figure into his carpet.</p><p>There was a masked stranger. In his room.</p><p>Peter froze. He had never been more thankful for the ability to ignore gravity and climb walls. Heart thudding in his ears,  he inched towards his desk in the far corner, where his web shooters lay. </p><p>They were his favourite inventions, inspired by years of research and the spider he was nicknamed after, and today was going to be a test run on how well he could use them to defend himself.</p><p>Maybe, if he could prove himself and catch this person, Tony would listen to him.</p><p>Swiping them, he clasped them to his wrists. The person was getting to their feet, and Peter really didn’t want to know if they could use the swords strapped to their back. Or those guns. And were those grenades?! </p><p><em>Focus</em>, he chided himself. </p><p>With two webs the suspect was grounded where they stood. Another golden web ensured that they wouldn’t be able to use their hands, either.</p><p>“Are these...webs?” said the suspect with a deep, disbelieving voice. “Is a there a giant spider going to devour me and feed me to their young? At least take a guy to dinner first!”</p><p>The suspect, assumed male, approximately in his late twenties to early thirties judging by muscle tone and build, seemed to be visibly struggling to cut through them with a concealed knife.</p><p>Peter preened at his success.</p><p>He sprung from his vantage point on the ceiling, onto the wall, then on the floor in quick succession, landing in the corner cast in shadow. He knew his mutation would make his eyes emit light only noticeable in the dark, and counted on it to scare the guy. He knew he shouldn’t have worn the Hello Kitty sweatpants today. </p><p>Scanning the room for a suitable weapon, his eyes landed on a thick, ancient collage textbook, which he webbed towards himself and held up menacingly. </p><p>Cautiously, he stepped forward into the light, brandishing his textbook. The man in the red mask gasped dramatically. </p><p>“Struggling- struggling is pointless! I know why you’re here, and you won’t take me without a fight! Those webs are almost as strong as vibranium.”</p><p>The suspect’s eyes widened, and how was that even possible through his mask? </p><p>“Wow. I knew I was gonna bump into some locked up young jailbait princess! That’s what you get for scaling one of the largest fucking towers in the whole of New York, owned by the king of asshats himself.” The guy looked down, contrite, then looked back up. “Hey. I just met you, and this is crazy, but here’s my number. So call me maybe?”</p><p>The last part was sung in a high falsetto, and Peter tried his best to muffle his giggles. He failed miserably. Why was this would be murderer making jokes? He was trying to be intimidating, damnit!</p><p>Bad guy cooed at him. “Wow. You’re actually precious. What is a literal ray of concentrated sunshine and rainbows like you doing in a soul sucking shithole like this?”</p><p>“I live here?” tried Peter.</p><p>“OMG. Tin Can locked you all the way up here? Damn, what are you in for, baby boy? Please tell me you don’t eat people. I will grow back in your tummy.”</p><p>“I won’t eat you. Who are you? And why would you grow back? Why are you here? You can’t have my tears!” Peter desperately needed some answers, and at times like this, he was glad Tony was too paranoid to install Friday in his rooms, or they would have been interrupted by all of the Avengers, even the ones off planet.</p><p>“Healing factor. Even death herself don’t want me. And why the fuck would I want you to cry? That’s pure evil, and trust me that’s saying something coming from a mercenary.” He tilted his head to the side, looking up imploringly. “Wade Winston Wilson, aka Deadpool, aka the last person who would want to seen you cry.”</p><p>“You...don’t want my tears?” Peter questioned hesitantly, holding his material sciences textbook to his chest.</p><p>“Nope. Why the ever loving fuck would I?”</p><p>“I’m a mutate. Healing factor.”</p><p>“I’m a mutant. Nice to meet you. Now, if you aren’t gonna snack on me, will you pretty please with sexy cherry on top let me go?”</p><p>“No.”</p><p>“Come on! What does an anti hero gotta do for some trust around here? Is there a dragon around here for me to slay? The Hulk? It’ll hurt like a bitch but I’ll try.”</p><p>“No! The Hulk is my friend!” Peter said, then paused. “What are you holding?”</p><p>In the blink of an eye, he darted forward and grabbed it away. It was a USB with a unicorn keychain, labelled ‘Lost Experiment: Extremis’.</p><p>“Holy shitting fuck, you’re fast! Give that back! It’s ultra mega extremely important.”</p><p>“What’s ‘Extremis’?”</p><p>“It was a horrible experiment made by bad guys to make even worse guys that blow up. It would turn people’s DNA into Molotov cocktails. Wasn’t pretty, 0/10,  would not recommend.”</p><p>“Where did you get this?” Peter was suspicious, and not just because this ‘Extremis’ sounded eerily familiar.</p><p>“This feels like an interrogation. I demand my right to an attorney! Shut up Yellow, I totally deserve a lawyer. Matty would vouch for my honour.” He turned his attention to Peter. “I got it the same way a lot of people get free stuff. I stole it.”</p><p>“You can’t- wait, someone’s coming, shut up.”</p><p>Deadpool started singing Shakira’s top hits at an even louder volume. Peter, before he had time to process any of this, drew back his textbook and slammed it down over his head with a loud thwack. He spun even more webs until Deadpool was cocooned with them and hanging upside down from his window ledge, out of sight.</p><p>Tony walked in, looking more awake than he had been in weeks, with a grin on his face.</p><p>“Heard something fall. You okay? I hope you weren’t attempting aerial acrobatics with the curtains again,” he remarked  in a sing song, teasing lilt.</p><p>“No! I just...dropped my book. It’s a real heavy book.” Peter laughed nervously, holding up said object.</p><p>“If you say so,” shrugged Tony. He walked up to Peter, holding a tablet in his hands. “Standing in this room, at this very moment in time, is one of the most genius, innovative men of the century! Oh look, you’re here too.” </p><p>Peter gave him a deadpan look.</p><p>Tony held his hands up as a show of peace. “What?<em> I’m kidding</em>! Why are you always so serious, anyways? You look like one of my old therapists sometimes, I swear.”</p><p>“I’ll bite. What’s the good news then?” Peter asked him.</p><p>“Nothing much really. I just redefined satellite tracking technology! You should’ve seen the look on NASA’s faces,” he chuckled, wiping away a non-existent tear. “I’m travelling to their HQ for a three day conference.”</p><p>“Wish I could be there,” said Peter, who definitely wasn’t bitter, not at all. He was happy for Tony.</p><p>“Oh come on Pete, don’t be like that. I’ll be back before you know it, with souvenirs. Listen, Natasha’s coming over from her mission in Europe for your birthday.”</p><p>“She is? I thought it was too important to leave.”</p><p>“She cashed in a favour. Said she would rather jump out of a plane than miss it, and that she’s bringing gifts! Isn’t that fun?”</p><p>“She does bring the best gifts.”</p><p>A faint, inhuman shriek came from outside his window.</p><p>“What was that?”</p><p>Peter gulped. “It’s just a bird. Probably a seagull. This is around the time they start migrating. Did you know how many birds run into stupidly tall buildings each year? A shit ton.”</p><p>His adoptive father gave him a strange look.</p><p>“Well, I gotta go before Pepper finds out I missed another board meeting and skins me alive.” He patted Peter on the back and made his way to the door.</p><p>“Tell Pepper I said hi!” Peter called to his retreating form, before he shut the door and locked it firmly.</p><p>For a moment, he listened to his own laboured breathing, before coming to his senses and pulling Deadpool (Wade?) to safety.</p><p>“Whew! That was the single most terrifying experience of my life, baby boy. Or at least it would have been if I could actually die. It’s just not everyday you wake up suspended by your panties, 1000 ft. above the ground, you know.”</p><p>“Sorry!” he winced.</p><p>“No lasting harm done! You got a mean swing, my spidery guy. Hold up. Where is my USB?”</p><p>“I hid it, and you are never gonna find it.”</p><p>Wade craned his neck to the side, before somehow looking smug. “It’s in your back pocket.”</p><p><em>Thwack</em>! Wades lights were out once more.</p><p>He looked about frantically for a hiding spot. Under his mattress? No good. His closet? Nope. <em>Think</em>, he told himself firmly. Where’s a place even a mercenary wouldn’t look?</p><p>Well, even mercenaries were just people, and people never looked up.</p><p>He webbed the USB hurriedly to the top side of his room’s light shade, where there was enough space to conceal it.</p><p>He made his way back to Wade, who was now a resting place for Ampere, his tiny, blind, mechanical pet with more limbs than sense.</p><p>“Amps!” he hissed quietly. “Get away from the strange man, Ampere!”</p><p>Ampere, the little fool, scurried away and accidentally poked Wade in the face. Multiple times.</p><p>Wade yelped, finally awake. </p><p>Peter scrutinised the man for a moment. He was the first person from the outside world he had met in years. Wade would have terrified him, if not for his cheerful disposition, and the way his senses stayed calm around him. He wasn't a threat,and that made him pause.</p><p>An idea formed in his mind, and Peter was nothing if not an opportunist.</p><p>“<em>Now</em>, you will never find it. You can have it back though, on one condition.”</p><p>“Anything! Just get me outta this, please? I feel like a silk worm, because trust me, I’m definitely not a caterpillar who’s gonna emerge from this any prettier.”</p><p>Peter rummaged through the desk drawer to find the vial of solvent. He gestured to his painting as he spoke.</p><p>“If you want whatever’s on it, you have to help me. I want to go see the festival of colors-”</p><p>“Pride?”</p><p>“-And since its been ages since I last went down there,” he pointed at his window, “I need you to show me where everything is.”</p><p>Wade gasped loudly once more. “So ...you want me to take you on a date? I would be abso-fucking-lutely delighted to accompany you, young man. Just one question.Who <em>are</em> you exactly?”</p><p>Peter rubbed his arms self consciously,  realising that he had never introduced himself.</p><p>“I’m Peter, I turn 19 next week, and I never really learned how to socialise. Sorry. Also, not a date.”</p><p>“It’s a date!"</p>
  </div><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_foot_notes"><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
          <p>I have had this fic in my head for months so here it is :) </p><p>Please comment guys im deprived of social interaction and your words give me the will to live♡</p>
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<a name="section0004"><h2>4. Leap for Faith</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Summary for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
            <p>yeet.</p>
          </blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p> </p><p>“So when do we leave for this date?” asked Wade, perched on the edge of Peter’s bed with his legs crossed and his chin on his hands, head tilted in curiosity.</p><p>Peter sighed for what felt like the thousandth time that day. This was reckless, idiotic, and also possibly the best decision he’d ever made.</p><p>“Not a date,” he replied, focused on packing as many essentials he could into the unused backpack that Tony had bought him ages ago because it ‘matched the shoes’. Finally putting it to good use, he filled it with three days worth of clothes, snacks, his tooth brush and other various items. </p><p>“I, for one, would not mind at all if it was a date. Hypothetically.”</p><p>Peter elected to ignore both the comment and its implications. “We have three days, and I have a whole bunch of spots I’d like to visit other than the pride march, is that cool?” He continued to try and shove his textbook into the backpack.</p><p>“Cool beans. No complaints here. Hey, what do you need the encyclopaedia for? No offence short stuff, but won’t that get heavy?” Deadpool asked, now reclining with his hands cushioning his head.</p><p>“I still need to study! I’m on the accelerated course. What would Tony say if I missed half a weeks work?” Peter blew at the hair that fell onto his face in frustration.</p><p>“I think that’s the last of your problems, just leave it,” Wade mumbled sleepily. </p><p>“Are you falling asleep? In the place you broke into?” he asked incredulously.</p><p>“No...” Wade trailed off, and began snore softly.</p><p>“Unbelievable!” Peter threw up his hands in frustration, before continuing to gather enough supplies to survive an alien invasion, and he had been through his fair share of those.</p><p>What he needed was a map to plot a route, as well as possible escape routes too. Just in case. You could never be too careful.</p><p>He turned to Wade and nudged him slightly before jumping back, safely out of range. “Do you have a map?”</p><p>“I got google maps,” the hitman groaned, and without so much as turning over, he handed Peter his phone.</p><p>Peter marvelled at the map displayed on the cracked screen, rotating it and zooming in. “I’ve never seen the mobile version of this type of technology before.”</p><p>Deadpool sat up abruptly, all traces of sleep gone from his demeanour. “You don’t have a phone,” he asked flatly.</p><p>It sounded more like a statement that a question.</p><p>“No...but I do have a laptop with an extensive library and resources,” he replied, uncertain as to which direction this conversation was headed.</p><p>“You don’t have Wi-Fi.” Wade shook his head sorrowfully. “Abuse. This is abuse.”</p><p>“It’s dangerous for the public to know about me and- and we have Friday!”</p><p>“What kind of 19 year old doesn’t have a motherfuckin phone.”</p><p>“The biohazard government secret kind!”</p><p>“Shit. Well, we gotta get you out of this abusive household ASAP, hold the Rocky,” Wade said, heaving a sigh and standing up. “Wait. Do you even know what that means?”</p><p>“We have Spotify!”</p><p>“Oh thank Beyoncé! My dialect is, like, 90% pop culture references! Guess you’re not as much of a hopeless case as I thought, you got the pop bit down, now you just need the culture. Also, loving the sweatpants.”</p><p>Peter looked down at his current attire, then back up at Wade, a furious blush spreading on his cheeks. “One sec.”</p><p> He grabbed the some clothes blindly and retreated into the adjacent bathroom, where he slipped them on as fast as humanly possible, weary of the mercenary left unsupervised in his room.</p><p>“Where are going first?” Peter slung his now significantly emptier backpack over his shoulder, now wearing something thankfully nondescript, and without hello kitty emblazoned on every inch.</p><p>“Demon! Its a cyber bug from the depths of hell!” Deadpool screamed as he jumped up and down on Peter’s bed, pointing at Ampere.</p><p>“I made it, it’s my brain child. You’re gonna hurt his feelings.” Peter picked up his precious companion, cooing to him softly.</p><p>“Thanks, I hate it.”</p><p>Rolling his eyes, Peter opened his window as wide as possible. “criminals first?”</p><p>“Don’t mind if I do,” Wade sniffed haughtily, before taking a running jump out of it, screaming hysterically.</p><p>“I’ve finally lost it,” Peter whispered to himself as he secured his web shooters and made sure that Amps was firmly latched onto his hoodie. Looking back at his room a final time, he inhaled sharply, luminous tears pricking his eyes. </p><p>“I’m sorry Tony, but I have to do this,” he told the condemning silence of the empty room, and with that, he pulled up his hood and leapt after Wade.</p><p>~</p><p>Freefalling, Peter absently realised, was an experience that involved a whole lot of feelings and very little thought.</p><p>His heart beat wildly, flooding his hearing along with the sharp whistle of wind. Time was both nothing and everything as his trembling fingers finally found the trigger of his shooter. Aiming instinctually, he fired at a passing crane and held on for dear life.</p><p>Eventually his descent slowed as he approached the ground, coming to a halt a few feet above the sidewalk. Peter looked at the cracked cement beneath, and it felt like he was in a vivid dream in which reality would come crashing down as soon as he made contact. He toed the lines of the path before setting himself down and releasing the webbing. </p><p>“Well that was dramatic,” Wade remarked from where he was propped against the wall to support his probably broken leg. “It’s giving me very coming of age chick flick meets escaped prisoner of war thriller.”</p><p>“It’s so...much.” The shift in perspective was so stark that when Peter craned his neck to see the true size of his tower, it made him feel miniscule.</p><p>“You would think it was much more muchier, wouldn’t you, especially after escaping that capitalist hellscape.”</p><p>“What..?”</p><p>“En-ee-ways! This is New York City, and I will be your date- I mean guide! First stop, the very heart of the local culture, the one and only Sister Margret’s Home for  Wayward Girls!” Wade, mostly healed, slung an arm around Peter’s shoulders. “It was a former torture chamber and monument to the patriarchy, but now it’s an independently owned pub!"</p><p>Peter tensed at the foreign yet friendly touch. This wasn’t Tony or Bruce or Natasha. It was a stranger, someone he had just met that day, yet his senses were much calmer than they would have been if he had done this alone. Maybe he could begin to befriend or even trust this man. Maybe this would end horribly, but Peter found that he didn't care. He was enjoying himself and he felt more alive than he had in years.</p><p>The escapee allowed himself to relax into a mercenary’s embrace, revelling in new found freedom. </p>
  </div><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_foot_notes"><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
          <p>this is a dumpster fire of a fic. but. nobody hates me more than i hate myself ♡♡♡</p>
        </blockquote></div></div>
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